The Demon from the Ashes: The Tale of Talris
by The Last Bohemian
Summary: I stepped off that boat a weak and fragile Altmer. Now, I watch the people of Morrowind bow to my might. I have crushed the sixth house. I rule House Telvanni with an iron fist. I sit upon a throne made of fire and bone. Let none deny the truth, for I am a god.


**A/N:** This is a rough playthrough of Morrowind that I'm doing. A lot of the stuff in the playthrough won't be in the game (IE: Random tomb looting and boring quests), but as I/Talris make major decisions, you'll see them reflected in the story. When he joins the Mages' Guild, you'll know. When he joins House Telvanni, you'll know. When he learns how to throw a fireball and wipe out an entire town in a single blow, you'll know. This will chronicle Talris's journey from a level 1 mage with trouble casting a fireball to a being with the powers of a demi-god.

**Disclaimer: **Bethesda owns everything, including a number of hours of my life. Talris is mine.

* * *

"_Captain, how did you finally manage to capture him without losing any of your men?"_

"_He turned himself over to us sir. Found him in the ruins of a charred house, bodies strewn all around him, burnt to a crisp. Just lifted up his arms and let us bind them, came along quietly."_

"_Did he give a reason for his surrender?"_

"_No sir, barely spoke two words on the journey across these Isles. Made the men guarding him feel pretty damn uncomfortable."_

"_Well he's in our charge now. Fetch Alsteris and tell him it's time to put the mark on him."_

"_I'm already here my lord. Came the moment I heard he was being brought here to the dungeons. Are you sure you want to do this? He is after all-"_

"_I know who he is damnit! Now get ready to put the damn thing on him, before he decides to try and blow his way out of here." _

"_Yes my lord."_

"_Captain, restrain him while Alsteris prepares the ritual. This will hurt him more than we can imagine."_

"_Yes sir." _

"_My lord,"_

"_What is it Alsteris?"_

"_He's asking for you. Saying he wants to talk, just the two of you."_

"_I don't care."_

"_He says that he's you-"_

"_No. He's no son of mine. Not any longer."_

"_If you-"_

"_Prepare the mark, this ends today."_

* * *

I couldn't stop seeing images. Visions of fire and ash. Great scenes of destruction, burnt villages and desolate wastelands as far as the eye could see. Valleys were filled with countless bodies, torn apart by the blades of men and the teeth of beasts. The crests of mountains became fire, bringing forth a black storm upon the world.

"Wake up, we're here."

The fires had descended from the mountains, and had come to bring the entire world under their thrall.

"Why are you shaking? Are you okay?"

Corpses of men and mer, charred black and feasted upon by the beasts of hell. I couldn't escape them, the eyes of the dead followed me.

"Wake up."

The images began to retreat. The fires returned to the mountains. The dead stood and walked. It all faded, leaving me in a world of darkness.

I opened my eyes, found myself curled up in the cargo hold of an Imperial ship. A threadbare blanked covered me, and I felt a sheen of cold sweat coating my body. Jiub was kneeling over me, a comforting hand placed on my shoulder. A dark elf, he had been my only friend on this voyage across the sea.

"Stand up," he said, offering me a hand. I took it and he hauled me up, giving me a look over to make sure I was okay. "There you go," he smiled, "You were dreaming, not even last night's storm could wake you." He frowned, "You were shaking badly, must have been a terrible dream."

Images of fire and death flashed through my mind's eye.

"It was," I said. I didn't tell him that I'd been suffering through them with increasing regularity ever since I had the brand burnt into my flesh.

"I heard them say that we've reached Morrowind. We'll be getting off soon."

A pair of heavy footsteps sounded above us. Only the Imperial Soldiers aboard this ship could make such a sound, their heavy armor and cocky march making their steps resound like a daedra in a china shop.

"Guards coming," Jiub said, "looks like this is it." He smiled, eager to be free of the ship's cargo hold. We'd been stuck in it for a few weeks, with only an hour a day to enjoy the sun on the deck of the ship. We were receiving pardons signed by the Emperor's fucking hand and yet still we were treated like prisoners. Fed like them too, bread and water for weeks on end. Do you have any idea what that does to a man's bowels?

Garbed in the blue tabard covered armor of the Imperial Legion, the guard was an imposing sight. The metal that encased him made him look huge, and the longsword at his waist could have made quick work of either of us prisoners. I hadn't so much as conjured a fireball in ages, and that mark that was burned into my flesh was a constant reminder of how low I had fallen.

"Altmer, let's get upstairs on deck, and keep this as 'civil' as possible." The way he stressed the word civil made it clear that he didn't think I was capable of such mannerisms. It infuriated me. I was an Altmer, we had created the very idea of etiquette while the Imperials had been wiping their arses with leaves.

The guard looked to Jiub, "You stay down here. This isn't your stop." The dunmer sighed and seated himself on a crate. I smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Good luck on your cliff racer hunting Jiub," I said. The man had often talked about the beasts, the flying creatures that hunted across Vvardenfell. He never expressly said why his disliked them so much, but he was quite vehement about driving them out of his beloved homeland.

"Thanks Talris," he said.

"Let's go Altmer," the guard said again. I nodded and followed him down the ship and up a short flight of stairs. All of the tables and hammocks were empty, with most of the sailors and guards having fled the ship for a quick stroll on dry land. I wouldn't miss the bastards.

The guard led me to a ladder and a trapdoor that had been opened, which had allowed a stream of sunlight fall to fall through the hole and fill the inside of the ship. He tapped the ladder, "Get on the deck prisoner."

"I've enjoyed sailing with you," I said, "I hope one day our love can blossom over a glass of wine and a soft bed." I figured since I was about to disembark, he couldn't exactly withhold my rations for sarcasm.

He scowled, "Get your ass up there."

"I won't be giving this inn a good review," I called down as I began to climb the ladder. "Better if a group of bandits had taken it over while I was sleeping."

A Redguard was leaning against the mast, arms crossed in a gesture of annoyance. He probably wasn't happy he was here guarding me while his friends were off drinking and enjoying the pleasures of dry land.

"Head down to the dock prisoner and head to the Census office."

I was just off the gangplank before a new guard approached me, he must have been a local, as I hadn't seen him on the ship. He held a scroll, figures, Empire loved their damn list .

"Welcome to Seyda Neen," he said. "Our records don't say where you've arrived from."

"Imperial City," I replied, "Enjoyed its prisons for quite some time. Before that, Summerset Isle, as you can tell from the glorious tone of my skin."

"Yes, well, I'll just write that in." He made no comment on my sarcasm. A bit insulting, I thought it had been a quite biting remark. But then again I had only a stone wall to practice on during my time in prison; I was probably a bit rusty in humor. The wall had been a great listener, but terrible in critiquing my jokes.

"Let me see your hands," the guard said, tucking the parchment under his arm and removing a dagger from his belt. In a few moments he had cut my bonds and tossed the rope to the side, allowing me a little time to massage my tender and chafed wrists. "Go on in," he said, nodding to the office behind him. "I have to check a few things with the captain." That was good, I was being given a chance to walk twenty feet without a guard right behind. I could taste the freedom already.

Inside, an Imperial was scribbling numbers on a parchment. The Census and Excise Office of the Empire was responsible for keeping track of Imperial citizens and taxing them. Along the way they found time for granting licenses for merchants, administering the right paperwork for captains, and taking bribes.

"Ah yes," the man said, standing and rummaging around for a new set of papers. "I have to mark you down as an Imperial citizen, now a resident of Vvardenfell." He looked me over, my worn clothes gave the impression of a vagrant, probably illiterate and not-to-bright, but I was a High Elf, and that told of intelligence, learning, and haughtiness, just like how a Khajiit tells of moon sugar and thievery. Aren't stereotypes fun?

"I can fill them in for you, or you can do them yourself if you can write."

"I'll do them," I said, flexing my cramped hands. The Imperial nodded and pulled out a quill and inkwell from his desk that he placed in front of me, along with a number of papers. He returned to scribbling numbers.

It had been ages since I had written anything. Parchment and quill were of shockingly limited supply in the Imperial City Prison. It felt nice to be able to write again, even though my handwriting had suffered greatly.

I filled in basic details, but stopped at my name. I had been given an alias just before I was transported out of the prison, told it would help me keep a low profile. Of course, that wasn't all that would help me lay low. With a frown, I felt the scarred skin of the mark on my chest. With an alias and that damn brand, I could hide out forever.

I wrote down my real name, and when asked "Is the Citizen Capable of Magical Use? (If Only Knowledge of the College of Restoration is Known, Please Refer to Line 36, Addendum 3A)" I marked the affirmative and moved to the next question.

"What is the Approximate Skill of this Magical User? (Knowledge of Magic Is NOT Considered Skill, for Knowledge, Please See Line 18)."

After I handed the finished forms over, the Imperial gave them a quick look over before giving them a stamp of approval. "Take this to the captain in the next building," he said, holding out the papers. "He'll give you your instructions." Then he returned his numbers, not giving me another glance.

A guard at the end of the room unlocked a door for me, directing me down the building's hall and to the right, just past a small dining room. I stepped through a doorway and found myself outside, in a small walled off area that connected the two Census buildings. Besides a small barrel (which had a ring sitting atop it), the area was empty. Odd really, it would have been a fine storage space.

The next building was occupied by another Imperial, but this one dwarfed the last one by a longshot. To say he was powerfully built would be a drastic understatement; the man looked like a damn orc. He was garbed in a suit of brilliant golden armor, with a gilded longsword at his side. I'd seen a few men like him when I was in the prisons; they came whenever they needed information from the prisoners. Imperial Knights, some of the finest soldiers in the Imperial Legions.

"Ah yes, you're the new arrival. Your papers please" I put the papers in his outstretched hand. He read them over, "Well then Talris, I received word of your arrival just yesterday. I have a few things for you. A small bit of coin, a package, and a dagger." He opened his desk drawer and removed the items, placing them atop the desk before he returned his attention to me.

"You're to report to Caius Cosades in the city of Balmora, and follow his instructions to the letter. I don't have his residence on file, but you ask around the South Wall Cornerclub, they should know, although you may have to grease a few palms." The way he said it, I got the feeling this Imperial didn't approve of the idea of greasing any palms. He handed over the dagger and its respective sheath, which I quickly stuck onto my belt. I briefly wondered how dangerous a territory would have to be if everyone had to keep a blade on them.

"There's a silt strider leaving for Balmora in a few hours, these coins should be enough for you to book passage," he handed over the tiny coinpurse.

"What's a silt strider?" I asked, the name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't recall anything about such a mode of transportation.

"Big things, the locals hollow out the shells and carry cargo and passengers. It's a safe and relatively quick way for land travel. You're better off using it instead of walking, especially if all you've got is that dagger for protection." He picked up the package and showed it to me.

"This is for Caius's eyes only. It's sealed, if you get it to him opened, we'll put your neck in a noose." It must have been a damn valuable package if they'd kill me immediately after freeing me just for opening it. "Guard it with your life."

"I will," I promised, taking it and tucking it under my arm.

"Well," the knight said, looking over his papers. "That's everything. Dagger, coins, package. You got your instructions?"

"Yes," I replied, "take a silt strider to Balmora, find Caius, give him the package, do whatever he tells me."

"Well then, you're a free man Talris. Welcome to Morrowind."


End file.
